


Glutton for Punishment

by Enisy



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cardassian flirting, Food, Humor, Literature, Lunch, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23252266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enisy/pseuds/Enisy
Summary: Garak is eschewing literary discussion to ply Bashir with increasingly exotic food – but what’s his angle?
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 21
Kudos: 105
Collections: All The Nice Things Flash Exchange 2020





	Glutton for Punishment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rivulet027](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivulet027/gifts).



> Beta-read by the dashing [Duinemerwen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duinemerwen/works).

Bashir’s voice had risen to a pitch that would have unilaterally ended his spy career, if he’d had one. But he couldn’t help exulting over the book’s last chapter – that plot twist had been _so good_.

“Try this one now, doctor,” said Garak, skewering a crumbly-looking roll with his fork and holding it toward Bashir. “It’s called _jadrann_ , which means _mother-in-law_ in Cardassian – a euphemism, you see. It’s _very_ spicy.”

“Mmm” – Bashir had hardly swallowed the proffered bite before he kept on speaking – “and what I enjoyed most about the main character was how _selfish_ he was, despite all his proclamations to the contrary. Marrying a species with whom you are physically incompatible _just_ to avoid having children would be a point of controversy, even for a human. For a Cardassian, it must be _unheard_ of.”

“What about this one?” Garak interrupted him again, wielding a suspiciously purple cheese. “It’s called _cemvash_ : a delicacy from my region. A _cem_ doe has to be exactly ten years old when milked for the cheese to obtain its characteristic flavor.”

This one took a bit more getting used to, but once he’d gotten past the chalky texture, Bashir nodded his approval. “And the _style_ ,” he exclaimed then, coming back to the book. “Cardassian monologues often bore me, but here their length was a testament to Droset’s inner torment. I could read his speeches all day!”

“You think so?” His companion smiled tightly. “Personally, I found myself wishing he would expedite his musings.”

Well, that settled it. Garak was out of sorts. He had fixated on the food almost since the start of their meeting, and barely said two words about the literature. In his mind, Bashir was already taking his temperature and draping blankets over him. But perhaps he simply did not like the book?

Before he could reflect on the matter further, the Cardassian perked up. “Doctor, if I may – one last dish. I do believe your life shall remain the single, feckless flap of a bird’s pinioned wing, forever incapable of taking flight, until you’ve tasted _skarvush_.”

“Garak, is something –” Bashir turned a lighter shade of brown as the victual made contact with his tongue. He had to swallow audibly – and more than once – to keep it down. “My _word_ , that is the vilest thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

The Cardassian pounced upon this statement with strange, unjustifiable glee. “Is that so, my dear doctor? And _what_ , pray tell, do you find so disagreeable about it?”

“Oh, I don’t know – my brain says the mould-like mouthfeel, but my heart says the viscous residue.”

Garak was smiling from ear to ear. “Ah, the _yolvan_! A sure sign that the sauce has set properly. Of course, I did not expect your human palate – which has befouled the culinary pool with the sewage of _hotdogs_ and _tuna casseroles_ – to appreciate the finer points of Cardassian cuisine. And what did you think of the _smell_?”

By then, Bashir had gotten to the bottom of his friend’s strange behavior.

He was picking a fight.

So, he rested his head against a closed fist, smiling indulgently. “I liked the book too much, didn’t I?”

“ _Far_ too much!” Garak sulked. “The Pelosian bride who visited my humble shop today showed less enthusiasm for her wedding gowns. And I’ll have you know, I took the measurements of all five polyps _individually_.”

“Go on, then. Tell me. What’s wrong with the book?”

Garak rolled his eyes with impatience. “The book is _excellent_ , doctor – a classic Merekkian tragedy, where one’s ego supersedes the will of the state, with terrible consequences for all dramatis personae,” he said. “But there is no joy in a conversation where we _agree_ about everything.”

“I… hmm. I didn’t like the subplot about the military service,” mumbled Bashir. “I thought that was kind of rubbish.”

For a moment, Garak’s eyes darkened in a manner Bashir found oddly sensual – but he quickly recovered, groaning, “Don’t _patronize_ me.”

Bashir crossed his arms. “Well then, Garak, if this discussion is not to your liking, why don’t you pick another book?”

“That is a most _inspired_ suggestion, doctor. Why didn’t I think of that?” From a fold in his new tunic – lilac and complex with arabesques – Garak produced a PADD, which he had obviously been saving for the opportune moment. He read out the title of the book: “Glinn Devek: A Citizen’s Last Penance.” Then, with a grand flourish, he handed the PADD to Bashir.

The doctor squinted at the screen, somewhat doubtful. “Is that – is that something you think I’d like?”

“Oh, _doctor_ ,” purred Garak, in a voice that sent expectant shivers down the young man’s spine, “you will _loathe_ it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [enisywrites](https://enisywrites.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. Come on over if you want to drop me a prompt or a question, or to just say hi!


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